


Merry Merry

by deadcellredux



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Advent Challenge 2012, Christmas fic, Grelliam, Humor, Lingerie, Multi, Naughty Gifts, this might be crack, vile tomcats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcellredux/pseuds/deadcellredux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William receives a special delivery on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Merry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Winter Advent Challenge 2012](http://adventchallenge.livejournal.com)!
> 
> For babyscissors' Grelliam prompt _anything involving those slutty Santa outfits_.
> 
> Please note that this fic is from Will's POV, hence the use of male pronouns for Grell.

The last thing William expected to find upon returning to his flat on Christmas Eve was one Ronald Knox emerging from the door, cheeks flushed and in a bit of a huff.

"Ah, merry merry, Senior! If you'll pardon me, just passin'—"

"How in God's name did you acquire keys to my flat? And what exactly were you doing in there? You look as if you've been…" Will's eyes scanned Ronald from head to toe. Red cheeks, out of breath, a suspiciously wide-eyed expression. "…exerting yourself."

"Oh ah, just droppin' something off for you on behalf of one of me mates. I uh, I've got to get goin' though, got a bird waitin' at the mistletoe, y'know?" White clouds of breath puffed from Ronald's mouth as he spoke as he walked briskly past William who, still utterly baffled, turned to watch him go. "Oh!" Ronald exclaimed, pausing to dig in a pocket of his overcoat. He produced the dubiously-acquired spare set of Will's keys with a jingle.

"Thank you," Will said plainly, as Ronald scurried off.

Will entered his flat with a sigh and a shake of his head. Honestly, he hadn't expected the holiday to pass without _some_ level of intrusive hullabaloo, but _this_ was different. This was…

…this was very interesting indeed.

Will pushed the door shut behind him, eyes fixed on the package—no, _garish abomination_ which had been deposited in his sitting room, with seemingly no regard for said surroundings. The package had been pushed into the center of the room in such a manner that Will's normally pristine and perfectly centered area rug had been dragged up by the corner beneath the package, and was now sporting rather unsightly patches of damp from the snow melting off of the box. Knox had certainly been in a hurry to leave this here; Will wasn't sure _why_ exactly, though simply looking at it made him feel a bit ill. A large box about four feet square—handmade, by the looks of it—decoupaged with red and green papers and fabrics and foils and—God help whomever had decorated the bloody thing— _glitter_.

Will rubbed his forehead as he walked past the package into the bedroom, deciding that he would rather be _comfortable_ before subjecting himself to whatever contraption might be waiting inside the box. He had been looking forward to a quiet evening home alone after a rather raucous Christmas party; spending holidays in solitude had never bothered him, though typically they were grossly interrupted by Grell—

 _Grell_. Will realized, at that moment, that he hadn't actually _seen_ Grell during his last hour or so at the party. That's right—he hadn't said goodbye to Grell, though it was probably better that way, as the man was already rather pissed off champagne and in poor form (as usual), having lewdly draped himself over Will to make several open japes regarding inappropriate behavior ‘neath the mistletoe, much to the perverse delight of catcalling onlookers and _why has my face become so very hot just now_

Honestly. A cup of chamomile was certainly in order; it would be rather unfortunate to catch cold this evening, as Will would likely be slammed with paperwork and understaffing for the next week (suicide rates escalated this time of year, which at least afforded the benefit of Grell actually showing up to work on time; he'd always loved suicides, because they were, in his own blasphemous words, so entertaining and dramatic) and _bloody hell will you stop thinking about Sutcliff because there is no need to feel guilty for not having wished him a goodnight, and honestly right now he's probably off with some fit young tart from Spectacles and there is no need to feel jealous, either._

 _Honestly_.

++++

Once comfortable in pajamas and armed with a steaming cup of fragrant tea, Will decided to investigate whatever it was that _whomever_ it was had _somehow_ talked Ronald into dragging here. He stood for a moment, surveying the horribly _beglittered_ object before him. There was, in fact, a small notecard affixed to the side of the package, and Will knelt on the rug (carefully avoiding the wet spots, which would certainly make for a ghastly task of cleaning) to remove it. Turning it over revealed a simple note, written in decorative red script—

 

_Dearest William,_

_I hope you enjoy your gift._

_Fondly,_

_Grell <3_

Everything suddenly made sense. Will dropped the hand holding the notecard to his lap and sighed heavily. _Honestly_ — giving Ronald his keys to Will's flat and encouraging the poor boy to break in to drop off _whatever this was_ , and make a bloody mess of it.

Will shook his head and took a sip of his tea, raising an eyebrow as he pondered what could possibly lie in wait inside the box. One year Grell has given him a bottle of fine brandy. Another year it had been a collection of love sonnets (the book was, disturbingly enough, marred by a few droplets of blood, which Grell had pointedly told him to "please just ignore"). Yet another year it was a frightful bright red teapot with an unnecessarily ornate handle, and last year it had been rather comfortable pajamas. Pajamas Will was, in fact, currently wearing.

Will suddenly felt rather self-conscious.

What Sutcliff could have possibly come up with this year, Will had no idea. For one horrible moment he seriously considered the fact that it might actually be _a decorated corpse_ , because he wouldn't put that past Grell, really. Or maybe a… _doll_ , or some wretched dandy outfit or something _oh my God it’s alive_

The next moment was a confusing and painful blur as the lid of the box flew off, something _within_ it pushing forcefully upwards, and Will tumbled backwards in shock and fright, letting out a rather undignified, frantic stream of loud noises and unbecoming expletives as hot tea splashed everywhere. He flailed for a moment and reflexively _tossed_ the tea mug away from him as the skin of his stomach and thighs burned.

"Good _God_ William how long does it take you to open a bloody _Christmas gift_ ," was Grell's rushed greeting, his voice trembling in rage through clenched teeth—

no, not rage. Grell was _freezing_ , because he was currently outfitted in the [most ridiculous getup Will had ever seen](http://i.imgur.com/oQ9rz.jpg).

Will's mouth fell open and for a moment he actually forgot the fact that his skin was stinging and actually _steaming_ a bit. He propped himself up on his elbows where he was lying on his back on the floor, taking in the spectacle before him. A spectacle that had wrapped his arms around himself and shivered something awful. In fact, if Grell's lips weren't painted with such tawdry cosmetics, Will suspected they might very well be _turning blue_.

"If you would outfit yourself in seasonally-appropriate clothing, perhaps you wouldn't find yourself so chilled."

"This _is_ seasonally appropriate!" Grell cried, flinging a hand up in exasperation. "I'm Mrs. _bloody_ Claus!"

"I see," Will responded.

Will could see _a lot_ of things, in fact.

Grell attempted to climb out of the box, to no real avail. He puttered awkwardly for a moment before glaring at Will. "A little help?"

"Of course," Will stood, the burn finally beginning to recede from where tea had soaked a leg of his pajamas and splattered one of his arms. He would need to change, but first he had to… assist. He pulled a blanket from where it was thrown over an armchair and made to hand it to Grell before awkwardly unfolding it and placing it about Grell's shoulders, getting rather close in the process. Grell smelled… _delicious_. Like some sort of holiday bouquet, cinnamon and peppermint and pine and holly and _just get him out of the bloody box Will_

Grell placed his hands on Will's shoulders as Will lifted him enough to step out over the edge of the box, after which Will promptly took a stiff step back.

" _You_ are my present," Will said, half questioning and half stating what was a no doubt puzzling development.

"Yes!"

"You… are giving yourself to me for Christmas." Will immediately felt a bit bashful after that statement, which had come out sounding so _very_ insinuating.

" _Yes!_ If I weren't so bloody cold you could see me in all my glory. I picked this outfit especially for the occasion! I even made part of it," Grell rolled his eyes up and nodded, indicating the fur-lined hood. "Rather seductive, no?"

"Charming," Will said flatly, and moved to start a fire in the fireplace.

"I'd no idea it would take you _this long_ to open me up. I hate that I've gone and spoiled the surprise, but honestly I couldn't stand the chill anymore. Plus I was a mite cramped up in there, and I wouldn’t want to negative affect my… _flexibility_."

Will's eyebrow twitched at the implications of the statement.

Grell continued. "Poor Knoxy dragged me through the snow and I'm afraid I caught a bit of…." he sneezed into the blanket. "a _chill_ …"

"I've gathered that much," Will stirred around with the poker as the flames grew and heat began to fill the room. Will preferred to keep his flat a bit cool; he personally found the previous temperature to be comfortable, but then again, he was _dressed_ and hadn't just been lugged half- _naked_ around outside in a flimsy box. He could hear the rustle of the blanket behind him as Grell dropped it to the floor, and when he turned around Grell was eyeing him with a devious smile, one hand on a hip, hair cascading down over his body. Hair that looked so very smooth and soft and red in the flickering light of the fire, hair that smelled so _very_ lovely and _why is this fire so frightfully hot have I put on too much kindling perhaps_

"So what do you plan on doing with your present?" Grell purred, and smiled.

"I…" Will swallowed and couldn't help his eyes from roving over Grell's body, quick enough so as to still appear polite, but lingering enough to take in absolutely everything. "Well first I need to get out of these pajamas which you have so…" Grell stepped closer— "very terribly—" Grell's smile widened, sharp and devious and _plotting_ — "caused me to spill my tea upon."

Grell was already undoing the top buttons of William's pajama shirt.

"I'll have you know that I may have suffered a frightful burn on account of your _hijinxs_ this evening," Will added, though his voice now lacked any semblance of vitriolic effort.

Grell _tsk tsked_ him as his fingers worked, deft and gentle, and shook his head. "Oh come off it, you over-dramatic prat."

"You suggest that _I_ am over-dramatic?" Will breathed, and he would have continued with some sort of reprimand if he could think straight, which was rather impossible now, with Grell undressing him like that, pushing the open shirt back off his shoulders so it could slip down WIll's arms to the floor—

"Your hands are _cold_ ," Will exclaimed sharply, unable to keep himself from twitching as Grell's fingers skimmed his skin. Grell tossed his head back and laughed loudly— _shrieking like a bloody harpy, honestly_ — before taking one of Will's wrists in his hands.

"Not surprising," Grell said, nuzzling his face against Will's palm. "Good thing you’re so very warm! Touching you should fix that problem straightaway."

Will's body relaxed as Grell pressed maddeningly soft kisses to Will's fingers, his palm. "Now be a good boy on Christmas and play with your gift, dear," he murmured, before running the tip of his tongue along Will's wrist.

Will reached out to tug the end of the ribbon tied neatly around Grell's neck, the material hissing as he pulled the bow free and reclaimed his other hand to push the hood off of Grell's shoulders and onto the floor, and _yes_ , Grell's hair was so very soft against his forearms.

"How would you suggest I...” Will adjusted his glasses and sighed, unable to keep himself from biting absently at his lip. “…play with you?"

"Hmm," Grell replied, tapping his chin with a finger in mock puzzlement. "Oh I don't know. Perhaps a repeat performance of last time? You know, that evening out back behind the Administrative building where you simply could not help yourself from _ravaging_ me like a vile tomcat amongst the—"

Grell's lips were even softer than his hair— _always_ so very soft—when Will silenced him with a well-timed kiss, and contrary to the state of his hands, Grell's skin was _very_ warm where Will gripped his waist, and Grell's mouth and tongue seemed to be hotter than the fire which was at present providing the only sound in the room. Will allowed himself to become blissfully lost in the crackling of the flames and the wet sounds of their mouths and Grell's soft little hums and _has it really been 58 days since I've last succumbed to relations with Sutcliff behind those bloody rosebushes he bought with_ unapproved use of petty cash _and planted much to the dismay of the_ actual _hired landscaper and I am certainly_ not _keeping count of the days or anything and oh_

those were Grell's hips against him, Grell's hands squeezing his bottom and pulling him closer, _Grell_ frotting against him, hard and hot under that ridiculous skirt and Will couldn't quite place when exactly _he'd_ grown so achingly hard himself.

“Will,” Grell breathed against the skin of Will’s chest, looking up at Will as he traced his tongue around a hardened nipple. Will’s breath caught and he shuddered, fisting a hand in Grell’s hair.

“Oh yes my dear,” Grell moaned as Will tugged gently, sucking for a moment at Will’s over-sensitive nipple before continuing, “feel free to play _rough_ …”

Will tugged the skirt from Grell's hips while licking a hot, slow line from Grell's collarbone to his ear, and thought to himself, as Grell's fingers slipped into the waistband of his pajama pants, that he didn't _quite_ mind the cold hands anymore.


End file.
